Only a Candle to Guide Me
by gothpandaotaku
Summary: <html><head></head>Post 9x23. Dean's a demon. That indisputable fact leaves the Winchesters at a loss of what to do next. So they do what they do best- save people and hunt things. But when a hunt goes wrong and drastically changes their relationship forever, will they both be able to hold on to their humanity? Eventual Wincest. Demon! Dean fic. f**k or die fic.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**My very first ongoing (hopefully) Supernatural fic. Nervous doesn't even begin to cover it. **

**WARNINGS: Language, eventual EXPLICIT Wincest, gore… probably more to come.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING. NADA. ZIP. ZILCH. Except my own delusions.**

Sam put the last of their things in the trunk of the Impala before shutting it. He looked up and startled to see Dean next to him; he was sure his brother hadn't been there a second before.

Demons were naturally stealthy beings, after all.

"You sure you want to do this?" Dean asked in a low voice, more gravelly now than Sam was used to. He was speaking to Sam but kept his eyes trained somewhere to the left of him.

Sam didn't even bother trying to make eye contact. He didn't think he'd be able to even if he wanted to try. Dean's eyes were green at the moment, they always were whenever they looked at him now, but the memory of seeing Dean with those cold, inky black eyes for the first time still haunted him.

"_Crowley! Show yourself! Or I swear to God, I will hunt you down-"_

"_Now now, let's not be melodramatic, Moose. Impatience does not become you, does it?" Crowley appeared suddenly, inside the Devil's Trap Sam had set with a chesire grin on his face. The fact that Crowley seemed practically giddy when Sam had been waiting for hours waiting for him to show up, each second, minute, hour, making the hole where his heart used to be ache and burn that much more, enraged him. _

_But Sam didn't have time to vent his rage by screaming at Crowley, tempting as it might be. The demon could refuse his offer, after all. So he settled for an intense glare that communicated everything he didn't have time for (or a bitch face, as Dean called it, and fuck if that thought didn't feel like a knife in his gut). "Bring him-"_

"_Done and done," the demon smirked, cutting Sam off in the process. It only grew wider when Sam's glare intensified. _

_Swallowing the anger that threatened to consume him, Sam asked "What do you mean by that?"_

"_I mean," the demon stepped a little closer to Sam while still in the confines of the circle, "that Dean is alive. Well, technically." He cocked his head to the side. "It's a matter of perspective, really."_

_Sam was already halfway out of the room when Crowley's words stopped him cold. "That isn't your brother in there."_

"_What?" Sam hissed. _

"_That is one of my demons, one of my favorite demons, to be exact. MY Knight of Hell. You see, Dean died with the Mark of Cain still intact. Thus, he is a demon."_

"_No. No, you're lying-"_

"_I NEVER lie! You know that!" Crowley actually seemed genuinely offended that Sam would think him capable of that. "Tell you what, go see for yourself. But I guarantee you won't like it. It's not a pretty sight, I'll tell ya that. But you're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" He mimed looking at a nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Well, I really must be going now. Toodles, Moose." And with that, the King of Hell was gone. _

"_Hey wait! Crowley!" Sam shouted._

_Not even a second later, Crowley appeared in front of him again. "Oh, almost forgot. Tell your egghead of an older brother I will not be requiring his services at this time, so feel free to do whatever your little demonic heart desires. And do keep an eye on him, this time." With one last smirk, he vanished. _

_Sam stood there approximately half a second contemplating the King of Hell's words before he was once again running towards where he could find Dean. _

_He was always running towards Dean. All paths lead to Dean, as far as he was concerned. For better or worse…_

_But when Sam reached Dean's room he found his legs wouldn't move. He stood at the threshold, frozen in place. His hand hesitated on the doorknob, ready to turn it any time, and yet it still wouldn't move. Why? Why couldn't he do something so simple as turn a friggin doorknob? _

_He was scared of what he would find on the other side of that door, that's why._

_Crowley said that Dean wasn't the same, implying that Dean wasn't even remotely human anymore. If Dean-_

_Dean. _

_Dean. THAT'S what he would find on the other side of the door, and nothing else. It didn't matter what shape he was in, he was still Dean, right? _

_And suddenly Sam couldn't stand one more second away from his brother. With conviction he turned the doorknob and stepped through the threshold, mentally bracing himself for anything he might see. But the only thing he saw was his big brother sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the door, as if he'd been expecting him. _

_The sight of his brother awake and seemingly alright, and most importantly, ALIVE, nearly took his breath away. God, he was alive. _

_In the blink of an eye Sam was crushing Dean in what could only be described as a bear hug. He clung to him as tightly as physically possible and planned to do so as long as Dean would let him, aware of his brother's dislike for physical contact longer than strictly necessary, but he needed this, dammit. The last time he'd hugged Dean he'd felt the life fading out of him and… he hadn't hugged back._

_After a few seconds he realized something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Normally no matter what Dean would hug back just as tight, but now… now he was as stiff as a bored. His body language gave no indication that he was being embraced. And with a start Sam realized something… Dean smelled different. He buried his face deeper into the hollow of Dean's neck as if willing the scent to be a trick of his imagination. But it wasn't._

_Dean smelled like sulfur._

_Like a demon. _

"_Dean…" Sam whispered. "Dean, please." He didn't even know what he was asking him for. To hear his voice? To tell him that this was all just a sick joke? To tell him that everything would be alright, even if nothing would ever be alright again? To just be Dean, his brother again? It was all of them, and none of them. _

_Dean was still unnaturally still. With a hitch of his breath, Sam came to the conclusion Dean wasn't going to move anytime soon. Slowly, Sam released Dean from his embrace just enough that he could see his face. His eyes were closed, as they had been when he'd walked into the room. _

"_Dean? Come on, answer me. Dean. Please, Dean." He was close to begging now._

_And Dean did. In the time it took Sam to blink, Dean had his eyes open and was fixing Sam with a steely glare. Their faces were level so Sam saw it perfectly._

_Dean's eyes were black. _

"_Get. Away. From. Me." Dean hissed in a low and threatening tone. _

_Sam didn't need to be told twice. He jumped across the room as if burned. "Dean, what… what the HELL is going on?" Sam gasped._

_Dean's answering smirk was made all the more intimidating by the inky black pools that were now his eyes. "Heya, Sammy. It's just me. Your big brother, Dean. Something wrong?"_

_Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out. His mouth was dry. He supposed if he thought about it he'd recognize that he was in shock, but at the moment it was all he could do to keep looking at Dean. To stare at Dean's eyes, specifically. It was as if it were physically impossible for him to look anywhere else. _

"_Hmm? Cat got your tongue?" Dean mimed looking confused for a second and then made a show of snapping his fingers as if suddenly realizing something important. "Oh, yeah! The demon thing, right? Is that it?" _

_When Sam still refused to answer he seemed to become irritated. "What, too GOOD to talk to your brother now? Ha. You always were a hypocrite. Probably can't speak because you're too SCARED. The fear is eating away at you about now, right?" The frown on his face morphed into a smile that looked sick and twisted on Dean's face with those eyes. It was wrong, all wrong. "Well, I'll tell you something, Sammy. __**You should be.**__"_

_In a raw display of strength Dean stood and grabbed the chair by the bed and ripped the legs off with his bare hands. He stomped on what was left of the chair and ground it beneath his boot, turning it to dust. He then yanked the guns off their displays on the wall one by one and smashed them, crushed them, stomped on them, and tore them apart with his bare hands as easily as one would a pastry. When he was done with that he simply set upon tearing the room apart. He threw the bed, kicked whatever debris was on the floor and threw anything he could find. Through it all he kept his cold black eyes trained on Sam's. _

_When it was over, when there was nothing left to destroy Dean just stood there glaring at Sam. He should have been panting, but he showed no signs of exhaustion and appeared as cool as ice. "See, Sammy? THIS is what I'm going to do to you if you don't stay the hell away from me. I will END you. I will DESTROY you. SO STAY AWAY FROM ME!" For the first time Dean lost his cool as he shouted at Sam._

_And it was that moment that Sam knew what Dean was doing: protecting him. _

_Protecting him from all the dangers his being a demon could entail. Protecting him the same way he'd been doing his entire life. Always protecting him, even if he didn't want it. Except this time, Dean was protecting him from himself. _

"_You can stop the whole 'Big Bad Demon' act now, Dean," Sam said and lifted his head to glare at Dean. "I know this is all just macho bullshit to get me to leave you so you can go off on your own."_

"_Sam…"_

"_No! This is just more of that 'protect Sammy' shit, isn't it? When are you going to realize I don't need you to protect me anymore?"_

_"Maybe when you can clean up your own messes without screwing everything up for once? Because you need it? Because I need it? Take your pick!" Dean shouted back, venom clear in his voice._

_Sam flinched as if he'd been slapped. "You're right. Maybe you should go. It's probably for the best. You obviously don't need my help now that you're a DEMON."_

_Dean's eyes had remained locked with Sam's ever since he'd opened them, never once straying for so much as a second. So Sam was able to see the brief flash of hurt cross Dean's features, even with the black eyes, before the same expressionless mask he'd been wearing slip back into place._

_Sam didn't know if it was a trick of the light or just wishful thinking, but he could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of green as Dean turned away to leave, and every bit of his resolve crumbled instantly. He grabbed Dean's sleeve and held it tightly between his fingers, like a child silently begging his parent not to leave them alone. His grip tightened as he felt Dean stiffen. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" He whispered. "Hurting you. Letting you down. Like always."_

_Dean shook his head, but still did not turn to face Sam. "No. No, you're doing the right thing by letting me go."_

"_How many times have I thought I was doing the right thing when I was only hurting the ones I care about? Dammit Dean, let me help you this time. You didn't give up on me when I was addicted to demon blood or even when I was soulless, or during the trials. I'm not giving up on you. Ever. It's my turn to save your ass for once, and I don't care what I have to do to do that."_

"_Sam…" Dean's voice came, low and a little gruff, to Sam's ears and it sounded so much like the old Dean it was music to his ears. "Don't… being with me is a huge risk, and- and I'm not willing to risk your life again. Don't ask me to. Don't make me take that risk. I can't. I just can't."_

"_Just… please don't go. Dean- I… I need you, okay?" His voice was barely audible, but Dean heard it loud and clear. _

_I need you. _

_Those three words rang in Dean's ears. He repeated them over and over in his head, like a mantra, because he just couldn't believe they had really come out of Sam's mouth. Really, that was all Dean needed: to know that he was needed. That his shitty life had a purpose._

_And that did it. Dean's mask, the act he was putting on in an attempt to scare Sam away, shattered to pieces. He could never refuse Sam anything, not when he sounded so desperate. Never. _

_Dean turned to face Sam, and his eyes were the same bright shining green Sam had been gazing into his entire life. Sam's own eyes were suddenly burning and he pulled his big brother into an embrace. _

_This time, finally, Dean hugged back just as tightly. Sam was so elated to feel Dean reciprocating he wasn't surprised he couldn't stop a few of the tears in his eyes from escaping. He smiled a little when he felt Dean leaving a similar wet spot on his shoulder. Regardless that he'd surely be embarrassed about it later, Sam continued to cling to Dean like a lifeline long past their normal amount of contact._

_When they finally pulled apart Sam was pleased to see Dean's eyes were still green. He idly wondered if Dean could control it like other demons seemed able to, and continued to stare before becoming aware Dean was speaking to him. "I'm sorry… what?"_

_Dean sighed. "Enough with the meaningful eye contact crap. This is all one huge chick flick and it's making me sick. I was saying, if we do this, we do this MY way."_

"_And what way is that, exactly? Care to share the master plan?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_I'm working on it."_

"_Well… what do you want?"_

_Dean furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "What do I want? What do you mean?"_

"_I mean… what do you WANT? Crowley told me you're off the hook, at least for now. Apparently your 'services are not required at this time', whatever that means."_

"_Yeah, I remember him saying something like that after I woke up… huh. I dunno… kind of leaves me with the heebie jeebies. Since when does Crowley ever let us off easy? And without it coming back to bite us in the ass?"_

"_I know, it smells fishy, I smell it too. But… why look a gift horse in the mouth?"_

_Dean shrugged. "I guess… Either way, we'll find out how he's screwing us over this time later." He paused. "Sam, look-"_

_He didn't even need to finish his sentence. "Dean, no. We're sticking together, whether you're calling the shots or not. End of story."_

_Dean gave a long, irritated groan. "Uggghhhh, why can't things be black and white the way they used to be? Before all this angels and demons shit happened? And you used to actually listen to me at least part of the time?"_

_Sam looked momentarily stunned before a small smile crept on his face. He'd just gotten an idea. Who knows if it would actually work, but he was willing to give it a try. "Dean, why don't we?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_Let's do it. Let's go on the road, just us two, the way we used to. No big picture stuff. Just us and the open road. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, right?"_

_Dean bit his lip. "It can't be that easy. You know it'd never work."_

"_Why not? Crowley's god knows where. Cas is dealing with Metatron. What's stopping us? And it's not all or nothing. We stay gone only as long as we feel like."_

_Sam watched eagerly as Dean struggled internally for a few more seconds. He turned to him with, for the first time in a long long time, hope in his eyes. "You mean it?"_

_Sam smiled. "Of course."_

_Dean laughed, actually laughed. "Let's do it."_

Sam sighed. "Of course I'm not sure. Far from it. I could potentially be making the greatest mistake of my life for all I know." He finally looked up and met Dean's eyes with a crooked, tentative smile. "Let's do it."

Dean's answering smile was all human.

Dean had supposedly wanted to get as far away as possible. His mood seemed to improve the further away from the bunker they got. He'd even sang "Back In Black" at the top of his lungs, and the irony hadn't been lost on either of them (he'd even flashed his eyes black once). Sam had simply rolled his eyes at his big brother's antics.

It was so typical, so _Dean, _for him to make a joke about a very serious situation, such as his new status as a demon. Dean should really be taking this more seriously… but the more he thought about it, wasn't it a good thing? It meant Dean was being Dean. Not even losing his humanity could change his demeanor; smartass comments, sarcasm, and pop culture references included. The thought made Sam smile, a real smile, like he hadn't in a long time.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam shook his head in response. It wasn't something he could easily explain.

They finally stopped for the night in a seedy looking motel after about nine hours of driving, only stopping for the occasional rest stop for Sam. It was strange for him to think that they were only stopping because _he _needed to, though. Usually it was Dean pushing to stop and take a break. But now that he was a demon, he didn't need that.

Sam's stomach churned.

When they arrived at their motel Sam got out of the car to get their room while Dean parked. When he returned he found Dean standing in front of the trunk with a look of intense concentration on his face. "What's up?" Sam asked, mildly curious.

Dean grit his teeth as he answered. "I don't know if I can open the trunk." For a supposedly all-powerful demon, he looked remarkably like a five year old told he couldn't have dessert.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. All the stress, the tension building inside him for who knows how long, left him as his shoulders slumped. He'd been on edge for days and he just couldn't do it anymore. That was his reasoning as he doubled over with laughter, laughing so hard tears streamed down his face. It sounded hysterical, even to his own ears, but he couldn't stop. Maybe he was finally having a nervous breakdown or a psychotic break or something. He found he didn't care as he heard Dean laughing along with him.

Their first hunt was a Werewolf hunt in a small town in Montana.

There were already two corpses, both killed with their hearts ripped out on the nights of the full moon. Classic Were hunt, and Sam was more than confident in identifying it as so.

So he really should have been more prepared.

They were in the forest where the two victims had been killed, waiting for the wolf to show. Against Sam's better judgement, they'd split up because they didn't know from which direction the wolf would come from. It was dark, he couldn't see or hear his big brother, and that made Sam nervous. Logically, he knew that was ridiculous; his brother was a demon now, but… old habits die hard.

Suddenly, Sam heard a branch snap behind him. Instinctively, he knew it wasn't Dean.

Shit.

He barely had enough time to turn around before the four-legged creature was on top of him, trying to sink it's fangs into his neck and tear his heart out. It snarled and growled and snapped its jaws as it tried to kill its prey, something that should have alerted Dean already. In the scuffle, he lost his grip on his gun with silver bullets in it. And with the wolf on top of him, it was impossible to reach the silver knife stuck inside his boot.

Double shit.

"Dean!" Sam called out. No answer.

Sam only had one thought as he fought the losing battle of keeping the wolf's claws out of his chest.

Where was Dean?

**SOON:**

'_Dean was currently having second thoughts about this whole thing.'_

"_Uh… yeah. It's kind of my job to save your ass, Sammy."_

_Sam smiled. "I knew you would."_

"_Yeah, in a small town in Minnesota four women found dead, strangled, in this past month alone."_

"_Dean, I-I need… What's happening to me?"_

'_Then the full weight of what he'd done slammed into him like he'd just crashed the Impala into a wall of bricks at a million miles an hour.' _

'_He'd just had sex. With his little brother. Oh god.'_

**All that and more to come in the next chapter folks, if you want it. PLEASE let me know what you think! Please leave a review on your way out! You'll get homemade cookies and my undying love if you do…**

**This chapter was unbeta'ed… Anyone wanna change that? *hint hint***

**Only a little over twenty-four hours to go guys… I'm scared. Someone hold my hand?**

**Thanks for stopping by! *waves***


	2. A Little Love in the Dark

**Mwee hee, chapter two! I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far, but thank you so much to all of you who reviewed and favorited and alerted! **

**Remember that Wincest? Yup, it's here- BIG TIME. Be prepared for EXPLICIT M/M incestuous sex, people- my favorite kind!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Except a ring that says "Jerk" and "Bitch" on it because that is how Sam and Dean say I love you and THE WRITERS ARE NOT TAKING THAT AWAY FROM ME! *sobs***

**Also, a thanks to my super cool beta DreamingToThis, for being super cool and editing this for me! Everyone thank the super cool beta!**

* * *

><p><em>Come with me.<em>

_We took a back road._  
><em>We're gonna look at the stars.<em>  
><em>We took a backroad in my car.<em>  
><em>Down to the ocean,<em>  
><em>it's only water and sand<em>  
><em>And in the ocean we'll hold hands.<em>

_But I don't really like you, apologetically dressed in the best, but on a heartbeat glide._

_Without an answer, the thunder speaks for the sky, and on the cold, wet dirt I cry._  
><em>And on the cold, wet dirt I cry.<em>

_Don't you wanna come with me? Don't you wanna feel my bones_  
><em>on your bones?<em>  
><em>It's only natural.<em>

_"Bones" by The Killers_

**CHAPTER TWO- A LITTLE LOVE IN THE DARK**

Dean was currently having second thoughts about this whole thing.

Would Crowley keep his promise to leave them the fuck alone? Would other demons or even angels show up and put a wrench in their plans to stay off the radar? Would he would be able to keep Sam safe from everything- Including himself?

Because he could feel it. This black energy inside him- this dark _thing _inside him that wanted to rip, tear, and kill something, anything- It wanted blood. It wanted to destroy anything in its path to get it. It was always there, just below the surface, waiting for him to let his guard down and take control if he so much as slipped a millimeter on his grip on whatever was left of his humanity.

He had no idea how long he could keep this part of himself at bay, but he'd be damned if he let it hurt Sam.

So before that happened, he'd leave. Sam would be pissed and would no doubt look for him, but Dean knew if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found. Especially if he was some kind of demonic mindless killer at that point. But for now, he felt as good as to be expected, all things considered. Maybe even better than expected, actually. He knew there was only one reason for that: Sam.

Dean knew he should leave, but he just couldn't make himself do it. He was just selfish that way, he supposed, always wanting to be around what was too good for him (Dad, Sam, _Lisa, Ben_).

And… he was stopping that train of thought right there.

_Shit. _Without even realizing it, he must've been pacing, his body instinctively moving as he entertained the thought of leaving Sam , because he sure as heck wasn't in the proper position he and Sam had agreed upon. His new demon mind worked slightly differently than when he'd been human; he found he could concentrate like never before and yet the passage of time ceased to mean much.

Dammit, Sam was so much better at this angsty, brooding thing. Turning around to head back to his assigned spot to wait for the werewolf, he decided he'd just go back to being the fun brother and Sam could be the moody one.

With his supernatural hearing, he had no trouble hearing a branch snap from the direction where Sam was supposed to be. _Son of a bitch! _That was probably the wolf. A few seconds later he heard a loud thump and Sam's grunts as, Dean assumed, he fought off the wolf. He broke into a run, and when he began hearing the wolf's snarls he pumped his legs as fast as they would go- which was pretty fast as it turns out, arriving behind the wolf in mere seconds.

Thankfully the wolf hadn't heard him, either because he was a lot more graceful as a demon or it was simply too busy trying to make a meal out of Sam's heart. Without hesitating Dean pulled out his gun loaded with silver bullets and aimed at the wolf's head; he couldn't aim for its heart with it on top of Sam. He fired and the wolf slumped over and fell off Sam. Dean fired one more shot directly into its heart and the job was done..

Sam still lay on the ground, panting slightly, his body lax with relief. Dean went to him and held out his hand to help Sam up. Sam sat up and took it, but instead of pulling himself up he gripped it tightly and stared into Dean's eyes with such intensity it almost made Dean uncomfortable. "You came," he said quietly, almost reverently.

"Uh… yeah. It's kind of my job to save your ass, Sammy."

Sam smiled. "I knew you would."

Dean had been fooling himself if he even for one second thought he could up and leave Sam.

XXX

"Hey, I think I found us a hunt."

"Really? Do tell." Dean had been on a food run and set the bags down in front of Sam on the little table in their motel room. Sam didn't look up from his laptop once.

"Yeah, in a small town in Minnesota four women found dead, strangled, in this past month alone."

"And what makes you think it's our kind of gig?" Dean began pulling the food out of the bags and before he even took a bite of his burger pushed Sam's requested salad towards him. Sam got so wrapped up in research and the hunt that he forgot to eat sometimes, especially with Dean no longer eating regular meals.

"Well, four people have been arrested, one for each murder, and it looks like the cops have a really good case against all of them… except they're all claiming their memory of the victims is fuzzy at best and, get this, a voice in their head made them do it and they had no control over their body."

Dean unpacked his own food and dug into his bacon cheeseburger with gusto. He technically didn't need to eat, but he insisted on doing it every now and then anyways. It made him feel normal… and as a bonus, he didn't need to worry about any impending heart attacks from his not-exactly-healthy-but-he-didn't-give-a-damn diet. "Is there anything connecting the victims?"

"Yeah: they were all in relationships with their supposed killers." Finished filling his brother in, Sam grabbed his salad and took a small bite.

Dean swallowed a particularly large bite of his burger and said "Sounds witchy to me… but are you sure its not just people?"

"I dunno Dean… I just have a feeling we should really check this one out, at least." He looked at Dean from across the table with his large dewy hazel eyes… Dean cursed his inability to say no to those eyes, and Sam in general.

"All right, all right. Just stop looking at me like that, jeez!"

Sam had the audacity to look innocent. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Sure you don't. But if this turns out to not be our kind of thing, you SO owe me."

If Sam had any idea of what would happen on this hunt, he might not have fought so hard for it.

If Dean had any idea of what would happen on this hunt, he might not have given in so easily.

Then again… maybe they wouldn't change a damn thing.

XXX

"Well, that was helpful," Dean muttered as they exited the prison where they'd interviewed the men and one woman arrested in the series of murders. They'd talked and talked but hadn't learned much of anything new.

Something was bothering Sam though… a thought in the back of his mind that wouldn't leave him alone since they'd talked to the suspects. Looking at the victims and comparing them with their suspected killers, it didn't quite fit.

Leslie was a heavyset woman whom everyone in town said never had a boyfriend to their knowledge until one day out of the blue she showed up with Tom, a man everyone whispered behind her back was too good for her, too handsome.

Kelsie was a cute young girl in her twenties… who was with a man more than twice her age. Her friends swore up and down that Kelsie had previously been into guys her own age before one day, out of the blue, she showed up with Alex.

Tammy was a beautiful successful businesswoman, and one day became attached at the hip to Mark… a married man. Her family couldn't believe she would do something like that.

Samantha was another girl in her twenties… in a relationship with Savannah, a girl from her school, though no one who knew her had any idea she swung that way.

They were all opposites. The kind that would normally have very limited contact with each other, let alone enter into a relationship. Not just that, but the suspects all said the same thing: prior to two or three months ago, depending on when they got together, they basically had no idea the person they were supposed to have killed existed. Leslie simply said "Hello," to Tom one morning in the office and he suddenly was smitten like never before, never mind that he already had a girlfriend. It was like he couldn't control it. Same for Alex. Same for Mark. Same for Savannah.

Sam tried to explain all of this to Dean, but he seemed doubtful. He'd just have to do more research later, or maybe in the morning. He was pretty tired for some reason…

Per Sam's request, they went back to their motel early.

When they arrived Dean noticed Sam went straight to his bed, barely bothering to take off his shoes before crawling on top and curling up into a ball. Dean knew that meant Sam was feeling utterly miserable. He strode over and put a palm on Sam's forehead then yanked it back immediately.

"Son of a bitch! You are burning up! Sam, why didn't you say anything earlier?" Sam merely groaned in response and proceeded to curl up into an even tighter ball. Tentatively, Dean put his palm back to Sam's forehead and braced himself for the heat. This time he held it there long enough to determine Sam was most definitely sweating, which was troublesome considering he was also shivering.

"Dean," Sam breathed, his voice sounding weak as he looked, "Something's wrong… not… not natural."

"What's not- oh, you mean your fever?"

Sam nodded. "Hex bag," he muttered.

"Right." Dean leapt up and started searching the room. If they suspected they were dealing with a witch she might be behind Sam's fever, which meant a hex bag… somewhere.

_**Ten Minutes Later…**_

"Dean, I-I need… What's happening to me?"

Dean frantically searched for the hex bag that must be hidden in the confines of the room… but where? He threw things, tore things, destroyed things, in his search for it. But no dice. "Sam I-I can't find it." He said, sounding every bit as defeated as he felt. "SON OF A BITCH!" He yelled as he kicked a chair across the room, breaking it into pieces.

"Make it stop. Please Dean, just make it stop!" Sam had somehow managed to curl himself into an even tighter ball than before, but now he was trembling even harder. He sounded like he was in so much pain that Dean felt it too; almost a real physical pain in his chest. Anything that hurt Sam hurt him too.

"Tell me what you need." Dean turned to Sam, who muffled another groan of pain. "Dammit, tell me what's wrong?" he grabbed Sam's arm and nearly dropped it out of shock. Sam's skin was so hot it almost hurt to touch. It was as if his whole body was burning with the fever.

Sam slowly turned to face him then and Dean got his first look at his little brother's… problem. The 'Fed' suit he'd been wearing to interview suspects didn't do much to hide his sizeable erection.

"Um, uh, oh. OH." Sam needed _that_ kind of help. Dean didn't think he'd be much use there. But then Sam moaned again, sounding even weaker this time.

'_Oh, it's obvious what he wants, so just do it.' _A voice inside Dean's head whispered. He knew it was the demon inside him speaking.

'_No.'_

'_But who knows what will happen to him if he doesn't get what he NEEDS. He might DIE.'_

'_He's my little brother.'_

He doubted he'd be able to get it up, for that matter. And Sam obviously wasn't in his right mind, it'd practically be… Fuck, why was he even thinking about this at all? It wasn't even an option, right? But then again Dean almost felt like he needed this too. The witch's magic must not have worked on him because he was a demon, though now that he thought about it he recognized its pull. It was telling him to go to Sam…

He'd been looking for an opportunity for a, release of sorts from the tension building inside him for a while now… '_and here's Sam, ready and willing. Who cares what hole you pound into as long as it's nice and hot and tight-'_

"Dean!" Sam's voice broke through Dean's internal struggle. He sounded more urgent and yet somehow weaker at the same time. He could see it, feel the way Sam's body was burning hotter by the minute. If he didn't do something Sam would most likely die soon. He'd always said he'd do anything for Sammy…

Now was the time to put that to the test.

"I got ya, Sammy. Don't worry." Sam's breathing seemed to slow down the tiniest bit, as if hearing Dean's voice reassured and calmed him.

With shaking hands Dean dug through his duffel until he found what he was looking for- a small bottle of lube leftover from a one night stand long ago. He didn't know much about gay sex, or ever wanted to know anything about gay sex for that matter, but he knew the very basics: you had to open up the bottom with your fingers, and the whole process went A LOT easier with lube.

Dean strode over to the bed and looked into Sam's eyes. Through the slightly glassy wide eyes he was able to find what he needed to give him the courage to commit this damning act: Sam was scared. And he needed his big brother to make it better.

"I'm going to take care of you, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. This will all be over soon," Dean whispered. Sam's eyes were locked onto Dean's, searching. He apparently found what he was looking for, as he took a deep shaky breath and nodded his approval.

And what did Dean see? A trust so all-encompassing that it was nearly blinding in its intensity. Love and adoration. Acceptance. Anything and everything Dean ever needed was right here, staring at him.

Without hesitation Dean climbed on the bed and hovered over Sam, immediately stripping him of every stitch of clothing. When the pants and boxers were on the floor Sam's face turned tomato red (it was actually a pretty color especially after Sam being so pale, but no there was no way Dean was analyzing that). Dean took pity on him and didn't look too closely- it's not like he wanted to see it anyway-… but Sam was _generously _endowed, no denying that. Dean was no slouch either, far from it, but there may be something to that height thing after all.

He slicked his fingers up with lube and proceeded to put a finger up his brother's ass. Sam gasped at the unexpected intrusion and strangely… it was kind of a turn on. After a minute of fingering he added another one, now using a scissoring motion. Sam's breath came in quick gasps, almost panting. Dean looked down at himself, specifically at the tent in his jeans. Okay, managing an erection clearly wasn't going to be an issue. He really didn't want to think about what that meant… so he added another finger. Sam made a face, but when he began moving them he gasped… and moaned. The sound went straight to Dean's cock and he didn't think he could wait any longer.

"Are you, uh, ready?" Dean asked, just to be sure. He was relieved when his little brother nodded. He withdrew his fingers. With his knee he nudged Sam's legs open until he was spread eagle, earning a blush from the taller man. He lined his cock up with Sam's hole and slowly began to enter a little at a time. But the second he entered Sam's body… it was like nothing he'd ever felt before; nothing could even compare. When he was all the way in he had to fight not to immediately start pounding into Sam straight away. He didn't want to hurt Sam so he waited. Sam opened his eyes a little and took a shaky breath and nodded his head slightly, he knew.

Dean began to move. Slow rolls of his hips at first, but quickly sped up his pace when he heard Sam's reaction. Sam gasped and writhed under Dean. His breath came in breathy little pants of "_ah ah ah_" and egged Dean on to move faster.

After a particularly deep thrust Sam _moaned. _It was so loud and sensual it brought to mind more than a few porn flicks Dean had seen; good ones. Dean rammed harder; Sam moaned louder.

Dean began to pound into Sam relentlessly, earning more delicious moans even louder than before as he chased his own release. A few more well-aimed thrusts and Sam was coming undone for him, practically screaming as he came.

"_Dean, aaaah!"_

And that was it. Dean followed Sam's orgasm with his own, calling out Sam's name. He rocked into Sam, riding out their orgasms and simply enjoying the way Sam looked, felt, and sounded beneath him for as long as possible. Panting lightly, plump mouth parted, slick sweaty skin that smelled like the two of them combined, hazel eyes blown so wide you could barely see the irises…If he'd still been a human, or a teenager, he probably would have come all over again just from watching Sam.

Shit, Dean felt exhausted. It must be a mental thing, because why would a demon get worn out from sex? Pretty awesome sex, yeah. If he was human he'd definitely be asleep already.

When his breathing started to slow back down to a normal pace, Dean came back to his senses enough to realize he was still inside Sam. He peeked at Sam to see if he'd noticed and… it looked like he was… asleep. Huh. He gently pulled out of his little brother and tried not to think about all the cum he'd left inside Sam's hole because he hadn't bothered to use a condom or how good, downright comfortable it felt inside him. It had felt like the home he'd never had.

Then the full weight of what he'd done slammed into him like he'd just crashed the Impala into a wall of bricks at a million miles an hour.

He'd just had sex. With his _little brother. _Oh god. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to stab himself in the heart all over again with the First Blade. He wanted to- No… he wanted to _kill _something. Perhaps in other circumstances it might have been himself… but there was a witch out there somewhere that would do just fine.

XXX

Sam woke up feeling surprisingly rested. That is, until he sat up in bed and stretched and felt a dull burn in his… ass? Huh? And then it all came back to him. Oh god. He'd had sex with his _brother. _

Oh god. Oh god. No no no no way. No way. No no no no no no no. It had to be some kind of dream- nightmare. Right? But the pain in his lower back and ass was definitely real and he felt as if he might have some bruises on his hips and… yup. He shifted on the bed. There was the evidence between his legs, though, uh. Less than he would have thought based on how it'd felt last night…

Bile rose in his throat as he bent and put his head between his knees. He took a breath, and another, another, not getting enough air, he was breathing too fast- where was Dean? Dean, Dean, oh god Dean wasn't there he left he left he left-

XXX

Dean hadn't intended on coming back.

There was no way he could stay with Sam now. Not after what he'd done. Done and _liked. _A lot more than he should. He'd violated his little brother in the worst way possible and yet- yet… it had felt so _right_ in the moment, he had a hard time feeling sorry. Maybe it was just the demon talking. And god, what did that say about him? He must have less control over his inner demon than he thought.

But for the life of him he couldn't leave without seeing his little brother one more time. He'd tried. Oh, he'd tried. He'd started out driving in the opposite direction of their motel only to find himself making a (very illegal) U-turn without consciously thinking about it less than half a minute later.

He had no right to see Sam after what he'd done. He knew that. If Sam had any idea what he was planning to do, to see him, he'd be disgusted. Outraged. He wouldn't be surprised if Sam tried to kill him. Heck, he fucking _deserved_ to have Sam rip him to shreds after the way he'd betrayed his trust last night. It would be a mercy.

Still… he'd counted on those last few days or weeks or however long he had until it was no longer safe to be with Sam. He'd banked on them. And now that they were gone, ripped away just like that… he was having a hard time letting go. So he had to see Sam. One last time. To say goodbye… or something else; he didn't know. He just had to.

Five minutes. That was all Dean would allow himself or he may never be able to find the strength to leave again, regardless of what Sam wanted.

All that flew out the window when he saw his little brother on the bed, panicking and calling out for him-

"Sam? Sammy? You gotta calm down, okay?" Dean rushed over to sit in front of Sam on the bed. When he didn't react Dean inched closer and put his hand on Sam's chest right over his heart. Just like he used to. "Breath with me. C'mon Sam, breathe with me. Just like this."

That seemed to break Sam out of whatever trance he'd been in. He looked up and finally seemed to _see_ Dean. His eyes latched onto Dean's like he was a man lost at sea and they were a raft to take him to safety. It made Dean feel sick because Sam should NOT be reacting to him like that; where was the screaming, the yelling, the hatred?

After a few seconds Sam's features smoothed out as he began to breathe with Dean, never taking his eyes off him for even a second.

Ignoring the fact that he was still touching Sam and his body would not listen to him to let go, when Sam's breathing was close enough to normal Dean asked, "Are you okay? What happened?"

Sam shrugged. "Are you staying?" His tone made it sound like the most obvious question in the world even though to Dean it made no sense. But he whispered it, as if he almost didn't want to be heard, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Dean wanted to say "No." or "I'm sorry…" or maybe even the final "Goodbye." He wanted to ask "Does it matter?" or "Why do you care?" He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs "You know this can't work, not after what we did." And most of all "How can you stand to even look at me? Be near me? Aren't you fucking disgusted?"

He wanted to say all of them. He wanted to say none of them. Instead he said "I… uh, yeah. _Yeah."_

Sam's body nearly gave out with relief, it was that obvious to Dean. With his hand still on Sam's chest he could feel it happen and simply let Sam lean against him; Sam's giant head falling in the crook of Dean's shoulder. It somehow fit perfectly as if it were made for him. He was supporting nearly all of Sam's weight, but he didn't care. This would be the last time he'd allow himself to touch Sam like this so he was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Dean buried his face in Sam's silky hair and let his scent wash over him, memorizing it with every fiber of his being.

XXX

Sam had no idea how long they'd stayed like that. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours. He only knew that it felt like the most comfortable thing he'd ever felt in his life.

After a while, Dean had suggested he take a shower, and he'd agreed. He smelt of sweat and sleep and… sex and lest he not forget every time he shifted, he felt a tiny bit of Dean's cum in his ass.

As he showered Sam wondered why he was suddenly being so clingy; it felt strange even to him. But Dean hadn't left; hadn't shown any disgust or hatred towards Sam because of what he'd made him do last night. _Because it was Sam's fault; it was always his fault-_

Dean was still here and that was all he needed.

They could deal with whatever came their way together, including the events of last night. But when Sam came out of the shower and Dean was sitting at the table in the kitchenette area of the room staring at the screen of Sam's laptop, Sam knew. He could tell by Dean's body language. Dean was shutting him out. It didn't take any words.

What Sam suspected was confirmed when without looking up Dean said two words- "Witches, man."

Sam recognized it for what it was: a dismissal.

* * *

><p><strong>And there ya have it. Dean's a bit of a bastard, and will continue to be so. Please let me know what you think! Leave a review and I will be your slave for eternity :)<strong>


	3. Blood

**Sooooo… here with another chapter. Don't ask why it took so long. I have no idea, it was even prewritten. This chapter is also unbetaed, so it may or may not be a pile of crap. You be the judge. Please let me know with a review! **

**DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING. Except a locket with Sam and Dean's photo in it that I probably stare at way too often. Oh well. I like the disease. ;)**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Then:<strong>

_Sam had no idea how long they'd stayed like that. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours. He only knew that it felt like the most comfortable thing he'd ever felt in his life. _

_After a while, Dean had suggested he take a shower, and he'd agreed. He smelt of sweat and sleep and… sex and lest he not forget every time he shifted, he felt a tiny bit of Dean's cum in his ass. _

_As he showered Sam wondered why he was suddenly being so clingy; it felt strange even to him. But Dean hadn't left; hadn't shown any disgust or hatred towards Sam because of what he'd made him do last night. Because it was Sam's fault; it was always his fault-_

_Dean was still here and that was all he needed. _

_They could deal with whatever came their way together, including the events of last night. But when Sam came out of the shower and Dean was sitting at the table in the kitchenette area of the room staring at the screen of Sam's laptop, Sam knew. He could tell by Dean's body language. Dean was shutting him out. It didn't take any words. _

_What Sam suspected was confirmed when without looking up Dean said two words- "Witches, man."_

_Sam recognized it for what it was: a dismissal._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three- Blood:<strong>

I'm only joking  
>I don't believe a thing I've said<br>What are you smoking?  
>I'm just a-fucking with your head<br>Only a crazy little thing I read

-"I'm Only Joking" by KONGOS

Every time Sam asked about the witch the only thing Dean would say was "I took care of it." It didn't matter how many times Sam asked, the answer was always the same. Eventually he just gave up and decided to trust Dean. They left the state and headed towards a new hunt.

They carried on much like they had before. Working case after case… but that was it. No breaks in between. No stops to catch your breath. No nights at the local bar, just hanging out and eating and drinking beer. No watching the stars at night on the hood of the Impala. Fuck, they barely even talked to each other about anything_ but_ the case of the week. Absolutely _nothing _brotherly in nature at all. It was all business.

Well, Sam had finally gotten his wish. They truly were business partners and nothing more. Except, now that it was granted, he really _really _wanted to hit something.

And touching? Touching was out of the question. It wasn't even on Dean's plane of existence. Ever since **that** morning he'd practically sidestepped him every time Sam came within several feet. Sam had gone to touch his shoulder once, in a casual manner to let Dean know he needed to talk to him, and Dean had literally jumped back a few feet before Sam came even close to making contact. He'd acted like nothing happened, but Sam could see the subtle way Dean had clenched his jaw.

It was beginning to be a problem on hunts. Sam had been forced to throw Dean a machete because he refused to come close enough to hand it to him, resulting in a zombie getting in the way and Dean getting bitten several times trying to make his way to it. For the first time Sam was thankful Dean wasn't human. Sam didn't want to think what would happen if this behavior kept up.

It hurt. Dean had never been touchy-feely, and neither had Sam for that matter, though he'd never had the same outright aversion to touch that his brother did. But they'd always made a bit of an exception for each other. A pat on the shoulder, a grip on the wrist if one was running for their life in the wrong direction, a clinical frisk to check for injuries, sitting next to each other in the Impala for hours on end, sleeping in the same room in twin beds thisclose…

It hurt. It fucking _hurt. _He hadn't thought it would hurt this much, but it did. He'd never thought about how often they touched each other or how normal it was for them to be in such close proximity. The old saying, 'you don't know what you have until it's gone' came to mind.

The same question kept running around in his mind in an endless cycle: _Why does it matter? _Then he'd think, _It __**doesn't**__ matter. I'm not going to think about it anymore. I'm done. I don't care. _And then Dean would refuse to even meet his eyes and he'd be right back where he started.

At the risk of sounding exactly like his brother, Sam really needed a fucking drink.

So there he was. Sitting alone at the table in their motel room with his laptop in front of him and his second beer nearly gone. They'd just finished a Vamp hunt in some town in Indiana a few hours ago and Dean was getting ready to head out to a bar before they left on yet another hunt in the morning. Sam hadn't even _found _a hunt yet, and Dean was insisting they leave anyway.

It was really starting to piss him off and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

It seemed almost inevitable that when Dean stepped out of the bathroom and was about to the leave the room without even a cursory glance at Sam, he snapped.

"_Dean," _Sam started. He felt more than heard Dean pause with his hand still on the doorknob. "We need to talk about this sometime." He turned around in his chair to face his brother.

"Talk about _what_?" Dean sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

"You know what," Sam challenged.

"No, I don't know, because there is NOTHING TO FUCKING TALK ABOUT. NOTHING HAPPENED, YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING." Each word, shouted out with such venom, was punctuated with Dean tightening his grip on the doorknob until finally it snapped off and Dean, his eyes black as obsidian, was left holding this broken, _useless_ thing-

The broken, useless thing left more than a small dent in the wall when Dean threw it across the room in frustration.

Sam could only stare in wide-eyed shock. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this. Sure, he'd expected anger, a lot of it, but for Dean to just fly off the handle like this, after only a few words? It was unsettling, to say the least.

"Dean? Dean, just calm down, okay? I know you don't want to talk about what happened-" He tried to keep his tone as nonthreatening as possible, despite his own anger threatening to get the best of him for Dean trying to get out of this talk yet again, but to no avail.

"_What happened? _Okay, fine. Ya got me. I know what happened, you know what happened, we all know what happened, right?" Dean threw his hands up in the air in mock exasperation. "Only thing is, I wish to God _nothing _had happened. _That night_ is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, or whatever pathetic excuse is left of it. So Sam, are we done _talking _about it yet? Because I don't think my stomach can take any more."

It was absolutely pathetic, but with every word Dean snarled at him, Sam just… died a little more inside. Or more like, he finally realized he'd had it all wrong in the first place and this was simply what he should have been feeling the entire time.

It was all he could do to whisper out the words "Yeah. Yeah, we're done here." With every second it was becoming harder to ignore the burning sensation in his eyes. He knew he was going to break down any second, but at that moment he'd rather die than have Dean see it.

"Yeah? Good talk," Dean sneered. With that he was gone. Out of Sam's sight. Out of Sam's reach.

Out of Sam's life.

Was it his fault that he couldn't stop thinking about _that_ night? Was it his fault that it was the last thing on his mind before he went to sleep every night, staring at his brother's outline laying in the other beed in the shadows? Was it his fault that he dreamed about it almost every night? Was it his fault that in the dark of the night, when he couldn't sleep, he thought about what it might mean? What it could lead to?

Was it all his fault?

He didn't want it to be. He hadn't wanted any of this. He'd just wanted his body to stop feeling like it was on fire. And then he had just wanted to make some kind of sense of it. And then he had wanted to _understand_ it.

He didn't want to long for something he couldn't have. He didn't mean to.

But he did.

Is that his fault?

Wasn't _everything _his fault?

As Sam slid to the floor and curled up in a ball, he thought he knew the answer.

* * *

><p>Apparently, demons <em>can<em> get totally shit-faced drunk.

Sure, it took nearly the entire bar and beating the ever-living shit out of the bartender, bouncers, and other patrons to get to it, but it was possible and that was all that mattered.

Dean stumbled to the door of his and Sam's motel room. When he finally made it there without falling flat on his face he rested his forehead on the cool metal of the door, trying to make the world stop spinning. He fumbled for the doorknob with one hand, just wanting to get inside as soon as possible and pass out on a nice, lumpy motel bed. When his fingertips met with a gaping hole where the knob should have been he peeked a blurry eye open. It was then that he noticed the door had been left slightly ajar. He mentally shrugged and pushed the door open; it made his job easier. If it wasn't for the fog of alcohol clouding his mind, he would have immediately been on alert- the door wasn't locked because he had broken the knob.

Swaying unsteadily on his feet, Dean made his way to the bed closest to the door. With a loud protest of the bed springs he unceremoniously belly-flopped onto the bed. Just before the blackness took over a single thought clawed its way to the surface of his inebriated mind.

"Sammmyyyy… I'm shorry… sho shorryyy…"

XxXxXxXxXxXx

_Chirp chirp chirp chi-_

_BANG!_

The blue jay resting peacefully on a tree branch directly in front of the window of one Room 23 got a rude surprise as a bullet shot through the glass, missing the bird by less than an inch.

"_Shut. Up." _Dean Winchester hissed from his position splayed out on his stomach on top of the bed. He grabbed his head and groaned. Something told him firing a gun in a motel room and busting a window in the process wasn't a good idea… but his _fucking head was fucking throbbing and that goddamn bird made it worse. _

Slowly, ever so slowly, Dean shifted until he was in a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He blinked rapidly and rubbed the sleep out of eyes. So far, even demonic hangovers were a bitch. He searched the room with blurry eyes. "Sam?" Where was his little brother? Normally when Dean came home drunk out of his mind Sam had a bucket to puke in, water to rehydrate, and Ibuprofin for the inevitable headache. When he was feeling particularly solicitous he even had a greasy breakfast waiting for him. And now… nothing.

The memories of last night came flooding back to him. Oh yeah… they hadn't exactly parted on good terms. Dean had seen Sam about to break down and he'd just _left him there._ One of the shittiest things he had ever done, and he'd done some pretty shitty things in his life… yeah, he definitely didn't deserve breakfast. But he just had to seek his brother out and apologize and things would go back to normal; or whatever passed for it nowadays. He didn't even know what normal was for them anymore.

"Sam? You're not giving me the silent treatment are you? Saaaaaaammm?" Dean tried again. Silence. Okay, maybe Sam had just gone out to get coffee or something. Another cursory glance of the room revealed that all of Sam's belongings were still where he'd left them- jacket thrown over the back of a chair, phone on the table, duffel next to the bed furthest from the door.

Maybe he should get off his ass and actually look around. Moving like molasses, Dean searched the room only to find out nothing more than what he'd been able to see from the bed. Long story short, his gigantor little brother was not here.

_Son of a bitch. _Alarm bells in his head were finally going off now. He hadn't seen any visible signs of sulfur, so that ruled out demons at least. Fuck, he had to hurry this up. It'd been nearly five minutes since he'd fired that gun and though the motel wasn't crowded by any means, surely someone would come investigate any second. But he couldn't leave the room without knowing what happened to Sam…

"SHIT!" Dean kicked the nearest chair across the room, smashing it to pieces when it hit the wall. His blood was boiling. Something had taken Sam, that had to be it, because Sam just wouldn't up and leave him like that _(would he?),_ no matter how angry he was, and he would find out what-

What was that on the floor?

Dean crouched and stared at a tiny spot on the floor. He hadn't seen it because it'd been covered by the chair.

It looked like a single drop of blood.

Well, there was about to be a lot more of it, because whoever took Sam was going to be torn apart piece by bloody piece.

Dean would make sure of that with a smile on his face.

* * *

><p><em>Drip, drop. Drip, drop. Drip, drop.<em>

The light plinks of droplets of liquid hitting something metallic slowly pulled Sam out of the black nothingness he'd fallen into. Something was wrong, he knew that much, as he struggled to reach full consciousness. It was cold… why was it so cold? He didn't remember their hotel room being that cold and musty-smelling… he tried to open his eyes to see the room, but his eyelids felt like they were weighed down with cement blocks. They were so heavy… maybe he'd just go back to sleep… When he tried to move to get more comfortable he realized he couldn't. The all too familiar burn of rope binding his wrists slammed into him.

_He was in the dingy motel room, breaking down. His breathes were coming too fast for him to breathe. His eyes were welling up with tears too fast for him to see. The hitches in his breath were too loud for him to hear. He was falling apart and this time nothing would be able to put him back together. _

_He was barely able to distinguish the sudden presence of a shadow coming from behind him. For one split second he thought, Dean. But it was wrong, all wrong, too tall and muscular. He turned around, reaching for the knife in his boots and-_

_Nothing._

Fuck. Something must have gotten the drop on him. But there was nothing left to hunt in this town, they'd gotten the vampires… hadn't they? Adrenaline running through his veins, Sam forced his eyes open and blinked to clear away the blurriness. He was in a large industrial-looking room with cement floors and… nothing else he could see. It was dark, but there was enough light from a small window behind him to illuminate the room just enough that he could see. Unfortunately the window was too small, just a slit in the wall really, not to mention too high for him to even think of reaching.

_Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. _

His quick visual scan of the room told him he was in a warehouse, probably in the middle of nowhere so no one could hear him scream. Fantastic. His arms were bound behind him and tied to the chair, tight. Same for his ankles. He couldn't move worth a damn. He struggled to move his wrists even a tiny bit. Even if all he succeeded in doing was making himself bleed, that was fine. It might loosen the rope just enough for him to slip out if he bled enough.

_Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. _

Blood… blood… did he smell blood? He turned and searched the room with his eyes, craning his neck to look behind him again. The warm sticky sensation of something flowing down his neck finally reached him. He looked down and saw parts of his shirt were wet but it was too dim to see with what. But he could guess.

_Fwwwssssh. _Now the plinking sound that'd woken him up sounded almost like a faucet turned low, just enough to let a small stream of water through.

Vampires must be bleeding him.

Thankfully Sam was tall enough that even with his ankles bound he could just barely touch his heels to the floor. He struggled and kicked his feet out as much as he could to finally make the chair scooch back a few inches. Now in his line of sight was a metal pail to his left, sloshing as the chair nearly knocked it over. A thick dark liquid was inside it. Blood. The pail was collecting the blood from his neck. That was why his neck had been craned in that direction when he'd woken up. The vampires had probably counted on him _not _waking up again.

The pail was a little over half full. He shivered. It must be the blood loss making him so cold. At a thump from the direction where he guessed the door was, though he couldn't see it in great detail, Sam turned his head. His blood was quickly turning the floor around him red and made a harsh sound as it dropped.

A tall woman with long blonde hair and grungy, dated jeans and flannel walked in. Upon closer inspection he could see the hair was tangled and mated, and her pale skin was covered in dirt. Not to mention she reeked of a combination of scents that could only mean the woods, and mostly, blood. Vampire.

"Now see here, Hunter," she said in a thick Southern accent as she stopped directly in front of him, only a foot or two in between them, "That vampire nest you just slaughtered? They were my cousins. My family. And you don't mess with my family. So now I am going to kill you. Nice. And. Slow. I am going to rip off one your limbs for every member of my family you killed. But first, I'm going to make good use of that sweet, sweet blood pumping through your veins."

Sam spat in her face, making sure to aim for her eyes. "Yeah? You and what army? All I see is a lone backwards reject."

The vampire glared at him before composing herself and bringing her hands to her mouth in mock surprise. "Oh, how rude of me! I'm so sorry, I forgot to introduce the rest of my family. Thems baaad manners," she drawled. "Hey y'all, come on in and join the party!"

The doors burst open as twenty vampires made their way into the warehouse.

"Meet my family. They've been _dying _to meet you. Every. Single. One. Of. Them... And darlin' I have a _big _family."

* * *

><p><em>Squish.<em>

"I'm going to ask you one more time- Where. Is. My. Brother?"

"I don't-"

_Squuiiiish. _

The vampire screamed as the blade twisted deeper into its stomach. The First Blade went full circle, blood flowing sluggishly from the wound.

"Where-_stab_-is-_stab-_my-_stab_-brother-_stab_?"

Dean had found the vampire while searching around the town for Sam. It had been running towards the outskirts of the town with purpose, obviously heading somewhere it deemed important… so naturally he used his newfound demonic abilities to capture the thing and inject it with dead man's blood. Nice and compliant for questioning. The bloodsucker howled in agony with every stab of Dean's blade. It wouldn't kill her until he _wanted_ it to kill her.

Dean laughed.

"I'll- I'll tell you okay, just- stop. Please stop," it sobbed. It looked like a woman, but he wasn't fooled. These monsters were all the same. It wasn't like she was a 'vegetarian' or anything, so he felt completely justified in what he was doing. She might know where Sam was, after all. Why shouldn't he have a little fun with it?

"Hmmm… Start talking. But make it quick, or I have a lot more where that dead man's blood came from." He lifted a syringe full of it for good measure.

The vampire nodded. "Our leader told us to come to her. That she needed all of us for something important."

"What was it?"

"I don't know, she didn't say- AAAAHHHHH!" In the blink of an eye the syringe was sticking out of her throat, poison flowing through her veins. "I swear I don't know! I don't know!"

"Where's your Alpha?" Dean growled.

"S-Some old warehouse… past the abandoned library on Jefferson. I told you what you wanted to know, not let me g- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The blade twisted in her guts once, twice, thrice. "But that's not fair! You said-"

"I know what I said. But how do I know you're telling the truth? This could be a trap. And honey, didn't your mother ever tell you demons lie?" Dean sneered as his eyes flashed black.

She screamed.

He laughed.

* * *

><p>There was a buzzing in his ears… it was so loud… getting louder… why wouldn't it let him sleep? All he wanted to do was sleep. He was so tired… but the buzzing grew louder still. He mentally groaned and tried to push past the fog in his mind. His eyes felt like they were weighed down with lead. <em>Does this feel familiar?<em> But then a familiar voice reached his ears and his eyes shot open instantly. His body protested, the flesh torn after vampire after vampire had taken their turns biting him before he'd passed out.

And there Dean was. Laughing. Smiling with glee as he grabbed vampire after vampire and cut their heads off with the First Blade. Some he played with, stabbing them repeatedly and slicing and dicing. His laugh was pure joy when they screamed, screamed for mercy or just in agony. And the runners, those were his favorites. Any that tried to escape met a slow, painful end. It was a relief when the blade finally severed their heads from their necks. A kindness.

The leader of the vampire nest could do little but scream as she watched her family be slaughtered in front of her. It was painfully obvious there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing could stop Dean. Nothing could stop a Knight of Hell.

But when a male vampire's, her mate's, head rolled to stop at her feet she couldn't stay still a moment longer. She screamed and lunged at Dean, claws and fangs bared.

She was dead before she hit the ground.

Her head rolled directly in front of Sam's chair, frozen in a picture of wild rage.

"That-_stab_-will-_stab_-teach-_stab_-you-_stab_-to-_stab_-take-_stab-_what's-**mine**." Dean hadn't spoken the entire assault on the vampire's nest, but now he yelled, rage making his voice thick and guttural. He continued to stab and mutilate the corpse until there was practically nothing left of it, it was just a mass of red.

Red. That was all Sam could see. Every surface in the room was coated, soaked, saturated in it. Even Sam; he could feel the sticky warmth flowing down his face, his neck, his arms… but especially Dean. It was in his hair, flowing down his face and neck, and his clothes and boots were absolutely saturated in it. There was literally not a single surface that wasn't covered in red. The room had become a proverbial ocean of blood.

How had this happened?

"Dean," Sam whispered. His voice was hoarse and thin; it took almost everything he had in him to get that one word out. The world spun when he tried to sit up a little straighter to get Dean's attention. Nothing. Dean just kept on his primitive growling as he continued to mutilate the leader's corpse. "Dean, she's dead already. Stop. Stop, just stop. DEAN!"

Silence hung over the room like a heavy storm cloud ready to downpour at any second.

Sam slumped over, no longer having the strength to hold himself up. He blinked, or maybe passed out for a few seconds, he didn't know, and Dean was in front of him untying his binds. When he saw the bucket he growled and kicked it across the room, joining the ocean of blood.

He blinked again and eyes as black as coal were mere inches from his face, noses almost touching. Blood from his hair and face dripped onto Sam's. Covered in gore like that, and not making jokes or grimacing and complaining how disgusting this was… this was not Dean. Dean would never let himself look like that. Dean would never find such joy in killing.

The hairs on the back of Sam's neck stood up. He shivered. Every fiber of Sam's being screamed for him to run away, to get away as fast he can. That Dean- no, this _demon_- would kill him too. Despite the fact he felt he would pass out at any second and probably couldn't move a muscle, Sam's body tensed and prepared for flight.

And then the demon whispered "Are you okay Sammy?" and he was_ Dean_ again.

Sam knew he should be terrified after the display just moments ago, and maybe a small part of him was, but… really, he wasn't. He just didn't have it in him to be scared of his brother. Because this _was _his brother. That was proven, he'd come for him. Only Dean would fend off over twenty vampires to save him. It had to be.

A hand gently, ever so gently, brushed the tears off his cheek. It was the gentlest touch he'd ever felt.

"Yeah," he whispered, "I'm okay."

Sam closed his eyes simply because he didn't have the strength to keep them open anymore. There was the briefest sensation of being lifted and then arms around him… he forced his eyes open one more time. Dean was carrying him. In his arms. Like a fucking princess or something.

How did he still have the energy to blush?

"Dean, stop. I can walk."

Sam could hear Dean's smirk. "Pfft. Walk, my ass. You can't even keep your eyes open."

"I can too. Put me down… 's embarrassing." Sam's voice trailed off, growing ever softer.

"No can do, Princess."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam thought he had it in him to open his eyes one more time… Dean was grinning at him softly, his face a little too close for comfort and eyes too wide with concern to be a real smile. But Sam knew it was okay.

His eyes were a beacon of green in a sea of red.

Sam laid his head on Dean's shoulder and let his eyes close for good this time.

* * *

><p>So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff!<br>Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough.  
>So give them blood, blood, blood.<br>Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood!

-"Blood" by My Chemical Romance

* * *

><p><strong>This is the end of the chapters I had prewritten, so I have absolute no idea when an update will be. And don't worry, eventually we will learn what happened with Dean and the witch… it will be very important later on ;) SO stick around if you want to find out! Stay beautiful, my dears, and thanks to all for reading! <strong>


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